


drown face down

by gangbang



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Angst, M/M, Pining, Pre-Canon, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-15
Updated: 2016-12-15
Packaged: 2018-09-08 18:06:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,772
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8855653
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gangbang/pseuds/gangbang
Summary: all it takes is for seunggil to see jj again once to dredge up all the feelings he wanted buried.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [bara](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bara/gifts).



> 1) i don't even go here  
> 2) tumblr user spicybara has to draw me kitsune jimin now (alolan vulpix ver!?)  
> 3) i watched this entire show while playing enstars on one hand and pkmn sun on the other
> 
> timeline is vague and this is a poor adherence to canon. imagine this takes place a year before the anime...? once again, sorry, i don’t even go here. thx rei for kindly dragging me for not making jj ott enough. PLEASE ACCEPT THIS SACRIFICE @ LINA

The thing is, Seunggil isn’t expecting to run into JJ at the rink at all. He knows JJ’s been placing well competitively—he’s not exactly keeping tabs on him, but he’s not not paying attention either—so when JJ waves at him in the locker room, yells _Seunggil!_ in that loud way of his, Seunggil swiftly turns around and ducks into a bathroom stall.

He doesn’t have an excuse for being an asshole. Or does he? He was taken way off-guard, hasn't seen JJ’s face since their fallout in Canada five years ago. Five years to crush these feelings, whatever they are, but it's clear with one look at JJ’s brilliant grin that nothing's changed at all.

Seunggil stares at the toilet bowl, stomach turning, on the verge of nauseous, like when he's had one too many shots of soju the night before a competition. He thought he was better than this. The toilet flushes—he must have set off the motion sensor with his frantic dash into the stall—and he hears footsteps. Shit.

“Seunggil?” he hears, too close for comfort, right outside of the safety of the linoleum stall door. JJ’s voice is practically unchanged too. No, that's a lie; it's much deeper, like puberty hit him a little too hard, but the inflection of his name is the same, the hard ‘G’ that JJ pronounces that always pissed him off. “Are you in here?”

For a mad second, Seunggil considers standing on the toilet seat so his feet can’t be seen. It's not going to work, of course, he's probably made too much noise, and he tries to calm down his breathing before he unlatches the stall door and pushes it open slowly.

JJ’s face pops in almost comically. “Did you need to take a shit _that_ badly?”

He looks _good_ , cheeks glowing like he just came off the rink, practice clothing glittering obnoxiously. Seunggil curses himself for not noticing that he was there earlier, but he's always singularly focused when he's on the ice.

Seunggil sets his shoulders, pushing past him. JJ’s got more than a handful of centimeters on him now, he notices to his dismay. “No,” he says shortly.

JJ follows him out the door—fuck, he's like a puppy that Seunggil has never been able to properly shake. Endearing in the same way he was back then, persistently chasing Seunggil down and declaring them friends, never taking no for an answer.

He's chattering away, seemingly oblivious to the way Seunggil ignores him, walking as fast as he can. “I knew you were going to be here! Congrats on placing in Vienna, by the way. You never respond to my messages—have you changed your number? Do you want to get dinner sometime and catch up?”

Seunggil stops, fixes his gaze on the ground a little desperately. Catch up, that's funny. “No, thanks.”

JJ’s infectious smile drops for the first time, as if he only just noticed the iciness in Seunggil’s voice. It hurts to see him like that, almost, but then Seunggil reminds himself that he shouldn't care. JJ stretches out his arms hopefully, voice a little more subdued. “Not even a hug for an old friend?”

Seunggil narrows his eyes. “Were we _friends_ , JJ?”

 

-

 

Seunggil buries himself into the duvet, sheets starched and impersonal the way that all hotel ones are. He had made it through dinner, his coach’s careful eye presiding over every bite Seunggil put in his mouth. It had been suffocating in the restaurant, Seunggil a little tired of performing all the damn time and a lot tired of thinking about JJ.

He lets out a muffled scream into a the pillow, before flipping over, chest heaving. Seunggil can't close his eyes, because every time he does, he sees JJ’s crestfallen face plastered all over the backs of his eyelids. There's a yawning pit in the bottom of his stomach. Faintly, he wonders if JJ had ever felt the same way when they fell out, when Seunggil’s training contract in Vancouver ended and he returned to Seoul.

Seunggil acknowledges that part of it was his fault—most of it. He hadn't told JJ he was leaving soon, because how _could_ he, not when JJ was so blissfully happy all the damn time when they were together. 

He hadn't made many friends in the duration of time he was in Canada; Seunggil was too gangly, too sullen, not good enough at speaking English. JJ had been one of his only friends. He had that magnetic personality even then, the one that draws people to him inexorably, so Seunggil had always wondered why JJ chose _him_ of all people.

The way _friends_ sounded coming out of JJ’s mouth earlier is just as crushing to Seunggil as it sounded all those years ago. _Friends_ didn't—didn’t do what they did, curious first kisses, the innocent press of lips that makes Seunggil flush even now. Friends didn't find solace in each other after a grueling 10 hours on the rink, JJ taller even then and fitting against his back as they curled up together. Friends didn't do that shit.

Seunggil was foolishly naïve back then but he's learned his lesson; he's not going to let himself get burned again. He presses his cheek into the pillow, dimming the lamp next to the giant king-sized bed he feels dwarfed in, and doesn't taste salt when he squeezes his eyes shut and wills himself to sleep.

 

-

 

His girlfriend is pretty, Seunggil notices detachedly. Petite, tucked into his side, waving and smiling kindly when JJ catches him the next day and introduces them. He feels like she’s eyeing him up-and-down, taking him in discreetly and fashioning a set image of him in her head. Seunggil almost feels defensive, until he realizes he’s doing the same. Asian-Americans, -Canadians, and their ilk freak him out.

He had been doing his best to avoid him, but clearly JJ hasn't lost any of his dogged pursuit in the past five years. Seunggil woke up at 5AM to practice—the rink empty, the fresh ice a dream to skate on—and let himself get lost in the exertion. His theme this year was spring, Coach Park insistent on a _new direction for his concept that’ll surprise everyone_. He’s no Viktor Nikiforov, but his coach somehow needs to live vicariously through pushing Seunggil unnecessarily after a short-lived career in ballet, especially after Yuna noona’s hard-fought success.

The lightheartedness of his routine, the bright Vivaldi concerto he's supposed to skate to—all of it feels even more distant to him now. He lifts the corners of his lips in his camera smile, the one he's perfected for when he doesn't have a facemask when he's walking through Incheon, bleary after seven-hour plane rides.

“Is this the one you were telling me about?” JJ’s girlfriend—Isabella—asks, and Seunggil wonders what JJ could've _possibly_ said about him.

“Yeah,” JJ says, giving Seunggil a hopeful smile. “We trained together way back.” He looks like he’s about to run his mouth again—bring up an embarrassing memory of Seunggil—but he visibly catches himself. JJ’s more subdued that he was yesterday. Seunggil’s only ever seen his infectious personality fade a couple of times, all due to bone-deep exhaustion, and he's almost vindictively pleased.

“I’m so glad to finally meet you,” Isabella exclaims, pulling him in for a hug that catches Seunggil off-guard. She's sweetly earnest enough that Seunggil can't even dislike her. Of course JJ would date someone like this, vibrant in the same way he is, all the things Seunggil never will be. “Good luck out there, okay?”

Seunggil doesn’t feel invisible to her, per se. He just feels—like he’s below her perception, like she’s only being nice to him out of a vacuous need to be _liked_ , to be seen in a good light. JJ’s much of the same and maybe in that way they’re perfect for each other. The resentment is dull, throbbing. 

When Seunggil walks away from them later, his legs feel like lead, and it isn't even residue soreness from skating for once. JJ looks at Isabella with a sort of quiet tenderness that Seunggil has never seen in his eyes before, certainly not a look that was ever directed at him. 

This time, when he's sitting in the bathtub in his lonely hotel room, watching the water ripple around his knees, he lets himself cry.

 

-

 

Seunggil doesn't think he can turn a cold shoulder at JJ for much longer, so when JJ giddily invites him out to dinner after he takes silver, Seunggil acquiesces. They're tucked into a cozy booth at a hole in the wall, JJ surreptitiously taking off his sunglasses only after he sits down.

“Congratulations,” Seunggil says, managing a genuine smile at him, and it's like the sun is shining out of JJ’s face. It almost hurts to look at him.

Seunggil allows himself to be drawn into conversation, feels his walls lowering. JJ makes him laugh, hard, relaying various misadventures on ice, smiling cockily as he gets absorbed. Seunggil gets caught up with it and this is too easy, he's too easy.

As they dig into their respective bowls of ice cream—it's cheat day and Coach Park isn't here—JJ speaks up quietly.

“I'm going to propose to her.”

Seunggil’s spoon drops to his bowl with a soft clink. He only lets his mouth twist for a second before returning to eating. His other hand is shaking and he clenches it into a fist on his lap. “That's… nice. When?”

JJ’s smile is giddy, the look in his eyes a little far away. “Next year. I’m going to win gold at the Grand Prix and propose.”

“I’m happy for you.” And Seunggil is, he _is_. He’s never thought of himself as particularly selfless but JJ is smiling like this and how can he _not_.

“You should be my best man. You’re still one of my closest friends and I—I wanted to…”

He trails off and there's a profound silence, full of things unsaid. Seunggil thinks he's going to apologize about _whatever they had back then_ and if there's one thing he can't take, it's JJ’s acknowledgment of what transpired between them. If Seunggil’s ever going to be able to repress this, he needs to push it down, deep into the recesses of his memory, by himself. He cuts him off. “—Of course.”

“Really?” JJ’s smile is full of relief, he's glowing, the same way that made Seunggil fall in love with him back then. The sharp pain barely tempers the sputter of his heart.

“Really.”


End file.
